A Place Past Loss
by CornerOfYourEye
Summary: Slowly drinking himself to the brink of self-destruction after the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry accepts Snape's final challenge: to brew a poison. Only it's not death that follows, but the Next Great Adventure in a world strongly resembling his own but with some baffling differences. Other dimension/universe
1. Prologue: Godric's Hollow

**Hi everyone! I was struck by inspiration and this story is the result. It's beta'ed by _Madame Cyanure_ who completely understood my itch to write, thank you for that!**

**General warnings: violence, suicide attempt, torture, some cursing and murder of a child (mentioned) It deals with loss so...**

**I hope you'll enjoy it!  
**

* * *

**Prologue: Godric's Hollow **

_**June 28, 1985**_

Severus fought the urge to button down his robe. The scorching heat was mocking him as he fidgeted with his collar. For once his black attire blended in perfectly. He was standing at the very back of the assembled wizards and witches behind the cemetery wall, but the soft slope permitted him to watch what happened in the front. He tried to remain detached, but behind his emotionless mask Severus felt a peculiar tinge of loss pressing down on his chest.

Many witches and wizards were dabbing handkerchiefs across their faces; they were not just used for the sweat. The children were unsurprisingly subdued as well. Severus looked up at the perfect blue sky. The summer breeze rustled in the trees of Godric's Hollow. It would have been a perfect day for playing Quidditch.

He turned his attention back at the proceedings in the front. An elderly wizard was droning meaningless words of comfort. After another minute, he backed away and nodded to someone on his left. Severus recognized Frank Longbottom approaching the grieving couple. His wife Alice stepped forward as well. With some coaxing, they led them forward.

Severus swallowed the lump that threatened to constrict his throat as he watched James Potter lowering a multi-coloured child's broom into the grave. Lily's heart-wrenching sob almost brought him to his knees. He wanted nothing more than to rush to her side and comfort her. But what could he say? _I'm sorry for your loss?_

Hollow words indeed, even if they were sincere. This was exactly why he warned the Potters in the first place. Lily wouldn't survive this. He had experienced the depth of her love and devotion to her son in person when he had come across them a few months ago, during their Christmas shopping. It was just Lily and Harry; she'd been juggling too many bags when they had literally bumped into each other.

He'd expected to be insulted or at the very least ignored, but Lily had brushed her hair out of her face and shot him a beaming smile. He helped her up clumsily not knowing what to say when Harry tugged her robe and, with all his youthful innocence, asked who the nice man was.

_"His name is Severus Snape, sweetie. He went to school with me and your daddy." Lily explained patiently, "He's a very famous Potions Master now."_

_"Really?" Young Harry asked excitedly. He turned his attention immediately towards Severus and politely held out his tiny hand pronouncing his next words carefully, "Pleased to meet you, Mister Snape."_

_A bit baffled Severus shook the young child's hand and replied, "A pleasure, Mr Potter."_

_The boy giggled and shyly stepped back, clinging to his mother's legs. He looked remarkably like his father, Severus observed. But those eyes… Those trusting, mischievous eyes were all Lily's._

_A sudden curse seared overhead and the display window from the Apothecary exploded, shattering their quaint little reunion as shards of glass rained down on them. His and Lily's eyes locked for a moment and he could see fear in them. The Wizarding World was at war and they were at opposing sides. A panicked and muffled "Mummy!" rang through the Alley as Lily ducked; shielding her son from the debris._

In that split second Severus had made a life changing decision. It was only through cunning, bluffing and a lot of grovelling that he hadn't been killed for that transgression. The Dark Lord wasn't pleased with his incompetence to aid his fellow Death Eaters that day. It was pure luck that the Dark Lord never found out that he had been actively present at the Christmas Carnage. He just hadn't been wearing his mask.

_How about…at least he died peacefully?_

Severus shook his head and muffled a cynical snort. He couldn't lie about that. At least Black's death had been quick and merciful. The man's death, after all, hadn't been part of the Dark Lord's statement. Severus hadn't attended the mutt's funeral. There was too much bad blood between them for Severus to feel even remotely sorrowful. Black was a true friend to the Potters however, something that couldn't be said of that despicable rat.

The mourners were slowly dispersing, led by grim looking Aurors towards the edge of the cordoned area where Apparition was possible again. Nobody was taking chances this day. Almost every co-worker of Potter was present; if not amongst the grieving, then in uniform guarding the boundary. Earlier Severus had overheard that Dumbledore himself had cast the protective spells around the graveyard. The elderly wizard was only recognisable by his long beard and spectacles, his colourful robes abandoned for this day, as he led the group surrounding Lily and James away.

That group consisted solely of close friends. Lily's dratted sister hadn't shown of course; something which Severus had expected, but that didn't lessen the impact it must have had on Lily. And James had no close family still living.

He caught sight of Lily's face in the distance as she passed him. She looked ashen, aged, her bottom lip quivering with each step she took further away from the graveyard. James was supporting her with an impassive face. Severus knew that mask very well. It was one of guilt. He detested the elder Potter; the man's choices, accomplishments and, to be frank, the man's entire existence.

But now Severus almost wished for Potter to come up to him, with his old arrogant grin, and curse him. The misplaced guilt had sucked everything so characteristic of Potter out of him and left only a shell of a man behind. He felt the hate dissipating as he stonily watched Dumbledore enlarge a silvery hoop; no doubt to carry them all to Hogwarts.

Severus waited until every mourner left. He looked around, making sure there were no Aurors in sight. Only then did he dispel his Disillusionment Charm. He slowly made his way across the graveyard and took a small, obscure potion vial out of his pocket. He turned the vial around in his hand watching the red liquid swirl around. It held a Blood-Replenishing Potion and a promise broken.

As he neared the white tombstone, his legs seemingly hesitated to go further. The grief that overshadowed the graveyard still hung in the sweltering air here making it hard to breathe.

_I'm sorry I was too late. _

Severus gently touched the cold stone and willed himself to read the inscription.

_In Loving Memory of_

_Harry James Potter_

_July 31, 1980_

_June 25, 1985_

_Too precious for this world_

He knelt down and placed the unused Portkey amongst the many flowers and cuddly toys. With one last glance he strode away his robes billowing behind him.

* * *

**Are you intrigued already?**


	2. Living Is Not Surviving

**Again beta'ed by the awesome ****_Madame Cyanure_****, thank you! And thanks to all of you following this story! Review responses are at the bottom.**

**Warning: Possibly the darkest chapter of this story**

**Disclaimer: I don't own HP**

* * *

**Chapter 1: Living Is Not Surviving **

_**May 2, 1998**_

"Harry Potter; the Boy-Who-Lived," Voldemort whispered almost reverently, "come to die."

There was a pause; a deep silence that was as impenetrable and menacing as the Forbidden Forest itself. Harry merely stood there with all his courage, with all his fear. Voldemort slowly raised his wand and Harry closed his eyes.

"_CRUCIO!_"

His eyes flew back open just as the curse struck. It was even worse than he remembered. Knives twisted beneath his skin trying to find their way out. His scar was viciously searing a hole in his head. Somewhere in the distance he heard Hagrid screaming his name. And then he could breathe again.

"Did you enjoy that, Harry? I have decided that I want a far more diverse audience when you finally beg for death."

Harry clenched his teeth. Oh Merlin, he was right back at the graveyard in Little Hangleton with Voldemort looming above him. He couldn't even recall when he had fallen down.

"You didn't bite your tongue already, did you?" Voldemort asked; sounding almost put out when Harry just glared in response. The wizard raised his wand again and Harry screamed when the curse struck him once more.

"Bella, you recall the break-in at your vault. Why don't you show Potter how much you appreciated his thievery? I believe we have some time to spare after all."

"Thank you, My Lord!" She stooped, eagerly stepping forwards. Harry closed his eyes again as one curse after the other ransacked his body.

...

"Harry! HARRY!"

Against all odds and sanity, he hadn't passed out, not even when they harshly dragged him back to Hogwarts. The Death Eaters flanked Voldemort and Harry, leaving part of the courtyard and the steps open for view in the dawn light. In moments the castle was emptied; every student and Order member flooded the open space. Maybe it did take some minutes but Harry was barely lucid now. The rising sun was conjuring confusing shadows around him; partly blocked by the massive shield that erupted between the Death Eaters and Hogwartians.

"It's time to beg, Harry." Voldemort's soft voice coaxed almost soothingly.

Harry rolled onto his back so he could face him. He tried to answer but instead coughed, spitting up blood.

"Get away from him!" He heard Ron's voice roar, but the shield was too strong. None of the spells the worn out defenders of Hogwarts shot at it could dissolve its magic. Harry turned his head. He could see them. He could see them all.

Ginny and Hermione. Ron and George. Mrs and Mr Weasley. Neville and Luna. He was doing this for them.

"Please..." said Harry, his voice raw and barely audible, "Please kill me."

"_CRUCIO!_"

Harry couldn't scream anymore not even as his head smashed onto the cobblestones. His bones twisted out of place. Once the curse was lifted again he coughed feebly even struggling to breathe now. _Surely it wouldn't last much longer?_ Nagini slithered into his line of sight, distinctly without the enchanted sphere protecting her. Hopefully Hermione, Ron or Neville would get a chance and then this would all end. But Voldemort was not cooperating and Harry was past desperate now.

"They didn't hear you, Harry." Voldemort smirked evilly.

Harry gritted his teeth and ignored all the shouts around him. He simply looked up at Voldemort and said as loud and clearly as he could the one thing that would end it, his pride be damned, "Please kill me... My Lord."

Voldemort tilted his head slightly in surprise and looked remarkably pleased. He raised his wand with a triumphant grin, "_Avada Kedavra._"

...

"Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living, and, above all, those who live without love. By returning, you may ensure that fewer souls are maimed, fewer families are torn apart. If that seems to you a worthy goal, then we say goodbye for the present."

Harry nodded and sighed. Leaving this place would not be nearly as hard as walking into the Forest had been, but it was warm and light and peaceful here, and he knew that he was heading back to pain and the fear of more loss. He stood up, and Dumbledore did the same, and they looked for a long moment into each other's faces.

"Tell me one last thing," said Harry. "Is this real? Or has this been happening inside my head?"

Dumbledore beamed at him, and his voice sounded loud and strong in Harry's ears even though the bright mist was descending again, obscuring his figure.

"Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?" _(literally from DH) _

_..._

As Harry opened his eyes the pain immediately rushed back to every cell of his body. He closed them again and took a deep breath. _Maybe I should have taken a train onwards?_

Smoke filled his nostrils and a large explosion shook the ground, reawakening his instincts. Harry turned onto his stomach and crawled as fast as he could manage until he found shelter behind some fallen stones.

The air sparked with magic. There were shouts and screams. Multi-coloured spells lit up the smoke with a greenish tinge but it was impossible to tell where someone was standing. It was also impossible to tell how much time had passed.

Harry reached inside his robes for his wand. A whispered spell later and his glasses were mended. Meanwhile the explosions had stopped and most of the shouting had died down. The smoke was still almost solid, but he wasn't taking chances.

After donning his Invisibility Cloak he carefully got up, almost immediately falling down again; trembling all over. He felt something beneath his hands. It was partially stuck underneath a fallen pillar, but Harry did recognize the Sorting Hat. He frowned, what was it doing here?

_Focus!_ He told himself sternly. The courtyard was suspiciously silent again and now the smoke was gradually clearing up. Someone was slowly approaching; Harry could hear robes trailing upon the ground a few metres away.

He held his breath, almost forgetting he was invisible, when he saw Voldemort pass him by. The man's dark robes were leaving behind a bloody trail but his gait was steady. Harry looked around. He saw nobody else.

Harry made a split decision and got up; gripping his wand more tightly as he silently stepped closer. The wizard's back was still turned to him, his head tilted a bit as if he was trying to hear something.

Harry almost cursed when he stumbled on something causing a scraping sound of metal on stone. Voldemort whirled around, wand poised to attack. Harry stood perfectly still not breathing, not blinking. The man's red eyes stared right through him. For a moment it seemed as if their eyes locked.

An eternity later, the moment passed and Voldemort continued to walk slowly towards the ruined castle. Only then did Harry dare to look down at what made him stumble. It was long, pointy and had its hilt inset with rubies.

He didn't hesitate now, he didn't stop not even when his Cloak flew off or when Voldemort turned back around. With the very last bit of strength he still possessed and every ounce of desperation he felt, Harry drove the Sword in right up till the hilt. Voldemort stared down on him in shock and stumbled back screaming in agony.

Harry fell onto his kneel, unconscious even before his head hit the flagstones.

* * *

_**May 7, 1998**_

Harry blinked his eyes open. He saw a high white ceiling and smelled potions in the air. A hospital; he concluded and carefully turned his head to one side. The blurry shape next to him must be a bedside table. With some effort he unlatched his hand from underneath the heavy blankets and reached out, hoping that his glasses were nearby.

He was in luck; his fingers soon brushed against them. Harry put them on and struggled to haul himself upright. He tightened his jaw in pain but it was bearable for now. Once he was sitting up against his pillow, he took his time to look around.

It was an airy and bright room with two doors one leading to the corridor and another to the bathroom presumably. A visitor's chair was standing next to one of the doors, alongside a small table which had almost collapsed with the sheer amount of flowers piled on top of it. He was in St. Mungo's then. It was awfully quiet though and while he had managed to sit up on his own, actually getting up seemed like a bad idea.

On cue one of the doors opened and a middle-aged witch entered. Harry didn't recognise her. She was dressed in lime green and holding a clipboard and a tray with all sorts of potions.

"Mr Potter, you're awake!" She exclaimed; surprised but delighted. Harry winched at the shrill sound.

"Are you in any pain?" The Healer fussed, placing the tray on the bedside table.

"Honestly," admitted Harry. "I ache all over."

"Sadly that's common after exposure to the Cruciatus Curse. Would you like some more Pain Relieving Potion?"

"Will it make me fall asleep again?" Harry asked bluntly. He might feel lightheaded but he was intent upon staying awake until he saw some familiar faces.

"It might."

"Then no." He appreciated the honesty but adamantly refused.

"Tell me where are Ron and Hermione? Do they have their own private room?" Harry looked around as if he was expecting them to pop out of nowhere. The witch paled however and stammered, "I'm sorry, Mr Potter."

"What are you sorry for?" He frowned in confusion.

The witch mentally braced herself because when she opened her mouth again she sounded scarily professional, "When our triage teams finally arrived at Hogwarts there was nothing they could do. Mr Weasley and Miss Granger didn't make it."

It took a few moments for her words to sink in. He repeated them over and over in his mind. He understood them but at the same time they didn't make any sense. He slowly started to shake his head, "No."

"No, you're lying. They're fine." Harry stated vehemently and crumpled up the blanket into his balled fists. He looked around the room for his wand, "This is one of Voldemort's twisted plots."

"You killed You-Know-Who, Mr Potter. The war is over." The witch said cautiously, "You saved us all."

"Then where is everyone else?" Harry shouted not noticing the curtains were starting to billow even if there was no breeze. But the Healer did, "Calm down, Mr Potter."

"No! Tell me where they are!" A vase shattered and the witch must have triggered some alarm; within a moment a whole troupe of similarly dressed witches and wizards hurriedly burst into the room. Harry panicked and tried to get out of bed. His legs didn't cooperate fully though and he fell. Before he crashed to the ground however dozens of gentle but firm hands were on him. Harry trashed around, "Let go! I need to find them!"

"Make sure he doesn't hurt himself!" Someone shouted. It became even more chaotic around him as Harry kept trying to get away. He felt flowers and glass beneath his hands and feet.

"They're not gone! You're lying, you're all lying!" He screamed and all of a sudden all the Healers were pushed back a few steps. Harry used the wall for support as he scrambled back up already planning his escape.

"Sedate him!" A female voice yelled. Harry stared wide-eyed at the wand suddenly pointed at his face.

"_Stupefy._"

* * *

_**May 10, 1998**_

Branches lashed against his arms and legs as he ran through the Forbidden Forest but Harry didn't notice. He jumped across a narrow stream but overestimated his strength, ripping his trousers across the knees as he fell onto the sharp stones. Not once did he pause as he scrambled back up.

_It's somewhere here. It has to be._

In the distance he heard someone calling his name.

When he saw a familiar group of trees Harry finally stopped. He turned on his axis a couple of times; trying to find some sign, some clue, as to where he had to go next. He ran again.

_It was here. I know it._

Harry sank down on his knees grabbing the ground around him. But he only found dirt and cobbles.

"Harry!" The voice was closer now and he recognized Kingsley. Who else could it be? Who else was left?

Harry pushed himself back up and brandished his wand, "_Accio_ Resurrection Stone."

Nothing happened. He shouted again, "_Accio_ Resurrection Stone! _ACCIO!_"

His outstretched hand remained empty. Harry looked around the small clearing once more searching for a sign.

"_ACCIO_ RESURRECTION STONE!"

He started panicking, his wand unsteady in his sweaty palm. _It should be here, maybe it was lodged in between something?_

"Reducto!" Dirt and gravel flew up in all directions from where the curse struck. Harry didn't even bother shielding his face as he repeated his spell once more, "_ACCIO_ RESURRECTION STONE!"

He turned to his left and tried again, "REDUCTO!" The ground exploded and the nearby trees groaned and splintered swaying dangerously after the blast.

"_ACCIO_! _ACCIO_ RESURRECTION STONE!" He tried again uncaring of the debris he'd unearthed.

"Harry! HARRY! Get down!" Kingsley barrelled into his side, hunching over the smaller wizard to shield him from most of the stones as they rained down on them. Kingsley quickly banished one of the trees as it threatened to fall over. He wrenched Harry's wand out of his hand and threw it out of reach. Immediately all signs of struggle left him and Harry sagged onto the earth exhausted.

"It has to be here, Kingsley. I need it. I need them back." His voice hitched and cracked.

"I know, Harry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Kingsley repeated softly as he held the now sobbing young man. Around them the Forbidden Forest grew still once more. There were no nosy centaurs, no shy Thestrals or bloodthirsty spiders. There was no gentle Grawp, no Fang, no Hagrid...

* * *

_**May 16, 1998**_

The funerals had passed by in a haze of grief and despair. His black robes were beginning to feel like a second skin. Now, as Harry stood next to the freshly dug grave and watched as yet another coffin was lowered into the black earth, he only felt numb. Professor McGonagall was seated to his right. She had asked him to call her Minerva now. It was something that would take time getting used to.

Kingsley was standing on the other side of her chair, making sure she didn't overstrain herself. The last of the Order had to stick together, after all.

This was the first and also the last funeral she attended though; the ever strict Healers of St. Mungo's had only released her yesterday. Harry thought she looked frail and didn't like it. When he had told them about Snape's role in the war and his true allegiance, Prof – Minerva, he mentally corrected himself – had been inconsolable. She told Harry she had never once spoke a kind word to him when he was Headmaster, exclaiming he must have felt so lonely. Harry thought Snape must have always felt rather lonely, but didn't dare say so aloud. The news actually halted her recovery and Harry was banned from seeing her for two days.

"I don't think I ever understood him, not one single moment." He admitted quietly as Kingsley carefully engraved Harry's chosen epitaph in the stone. The tremors in his hands prevented Harry from doing it himself. Minerva grabbed his hand and gently squeezed, but she didn't say anything in reply. Nor did Kingsley.

_Severus Snape_

_1960 - 1998_

_Love is the greatest force_

* * *

_**June 2, 1998**_

The Floo flared as Kingsley stepped into the living room of Grimmauld Place. He brushed the soot off his official robes, almost startling at the sudden applause. Minerva clapped enthusiastically from her comfy chair.

"Very well done." She praised and pointed at the radio, "We heard your speech. It was very moving, Kingsley and truly inspirational for your first term as Minister."

"Thank you, Minerva." Kingsley said sincerely. There were only a few people whose opinion mattered after all.

"Is Harry here as well?" He asked as he unbuttoned his outer robe, hanging it across the couch before sinking down into the cushions. He felt tired but content. The press were strangely respectful for once, even Skeeter had been polite. Kingsley knew it wouldn't last very long, but at least for now everyone in the Ministry was working towards a common goal. It actually felt good to be part of it this time.

Minerva sighed, "He's in the kitchen, I believe. Halfway during your speech he suddenly decided that I needed tea and left."

"I'll go procure myself a cup then." Kingsley stood back up and descended the stairs. He knocked on the closed door and waited a couple of seconds before stepping inside. Harry was standing with his back to him at the counter. The young wizard hurriedly wiped his face and cleared his throat.

"Tea, Kingsley?" Harry asked with his back still turned.

"If it's no trouble." He replied choosing not to comment on Harry's hoarse voice. The young wizard reheated the water and carefully placed everything on a serving tray.

"Can I help with something?" Kingsley asked.

"There are some biscuits in that cupboard." Harry replied evenly, as he himself grabbed another cup. Kingsley walked over to the kitchen counter and added the biscuits. Harry was still busy avoiding the older man's gaze as he placed the cup on top of the other two.

"Harry, I..." Kingsley started hesitantly, "The Ministry felt it necessary to reward your bravery."

"I don't need a reward." Harry sounded angry all of a sudden; something which the freshly inaugurated Minister understood completely.

"I told them that and they agreed to forego the usual ceremony, but..." Kingsley lifted something out of his pocket and placed it on the table, "It's your Order of Merlin, First Class." He added when Harry merely stared at the thing, barely acknowledging it.

"I'll carry the tray upstairs." Kingsley offered, already lifting it up when he noticed Harry's hands shaking again.

"Wait," Harry suddenly said when Kingsley was already halfway across the threshold. The older wizard stopped and turned around as he carefully balanced the tray. He waited expectantly for Harry to continue. The young man was holding his Order of Merlin now.

"Thank you for what you said, about Ron and He-Hermione and..." Harry's voice faltered. For a second Kingsley didn't know how to respond. He could answer all those pesky reporters, argue with the seasoned politicians all day but now, when it mattered most, the right words wouldn't come. He thought they both looked considerably out of place: he standing there with the delicate tea tray in his calloused hands and Harry awkwardly holding the medal.

"I'll stop Minerva from eating all the biscuits." Kingsley said allowing the young man his space once more as he left.

More than an hour passed before Harry finally joined them in the living room, freshly showered and looking slightly better than before. Minerva pushed the biscuits to the young man's side and he and Minerva shared a pleased smile when Harry actually ate them with relish.

It turned out to be an enjoyable evening with himself complaining about those seasoned politicians and Minerva regaling them both of those wizards' school years. Beside the priceless blackmail material he collected, Kingsley was ever grateful when Minerva succeeded in making Harry laugh.

Later that night when the others had already retired to their rooms, Kingsley took the tray back to the kitchen and cleaned up the place. It didn't surprise him that he found a molten lump of one Order of Merlin, First Class in the dustbin.

* * *

_**July 17, 1998**_

"Are you sure you'll be all right?" Minerva asked; still apprehensive about leaving the young wizard alone. They had discussed this in length over the past days and only the fact that Harry was right and she needed to oversee the reconstruction of Hogwarts herself had led to this moment. She wasn't about to allow those nitwits at the Ministry to overrun her school.

"I will be." Harry said as he placed her suitcase next to the Floo. "Eventually." He amended after she gave him a knowing look. Minerva sighed. More than a month had passed since the Battle and while Harry was physically declared fit, she worried over his mental state.

"You can't keep mothering me, Minerva." Harry suddenly said impatiently, "I need to figure this out on my own."

"Very well then, young man." She said in her usual austere voice, which caused a small smile to appear on the boy's face. So much like his father, Minerva thought, and so much like his mother.

"I expect an owl every other day, understood?" She repeated their agreement once more, "And a visit is in order as well."

A shadow passed over Harry's face so fast that Minerva almost missed it. Almost, but living with him this last month had taught her more about his mannerisms than all the previous years together ever did.

She took his wrist between her hands, "But not too soon, Harry, I know." She reassured him and stepped to the fireplace. Harry handed her the container of Floo Powder. She would travel to the Three Broomsticks first and from there she would be escorted to the castle. It was not a sight she was looking forward to.

She took a deep breath and grabbed some powder in one hand and her suitcase in the other.

"You really are a true Gryffindor, Professor." Harry suddenly said as an encouragement.

"Thank you, Mr Potter." She inclined her head at the compliment and, without further ado, called out "The Three Broomsticks". A second later she was gone.

* * *

_**July 31, 1998**_

"Happy Birthday to me, Happy Birthday to me, Happy Birthday dear Harry, Happy Birthday to me." Harry softly sang as he drew a cake with eighteen candles in the dust and blew it away.

"Make a wish, Harry." He giggled as he took another swig of Firewhiskey lying on his back on the floor of yet another dusty room. He might reopen the Floo when he woke up in the morning, but for now he just wanted to be left alone. Let the world celebrate the birthday of the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice on its own, he thought grimly as he heard distant fireworks.

"I wish I was boarding a train." He said to no one in particular, and giggled again; not bothering to wipe away his tears.

* * *

_**August 3, 1998**_

Harry wandered into the next room he was cleaning out. He read in one of the pamphlets which Minerva had no doubt left behind that focusing on a certain task might help. Fixing up Grimmauld Place will probably keep him nicely preoccupied until next year.

There were ripped papers and broken shards of wood everywhere. It probably had been a small study before the desk and all its contents had been blown up.

The Death Eaters might have done that last year. Or Harry might have done that a few days ago; he sheepishly tried to recall his drunken haze.

Most of the wreckage was unsalvageable but some notebooks seemed intact and Harry found a whole set of quills underneath an overturned drawer. He expectantly opened one of the rare cardboard boxes in this house trying to guess what he might set aside on his good-for-another-day pile.

He hadn't chucked it in the fireplace then, Harry thought as he carefully lifted a homework planner out of the box. Sirius must have found it after they left in Fifth Year and set it aside.

Almost reverently, Harry opened it. It was empty of course. He had never used it, but carelessly tossed this present aside the moment he received it. Harry tried to swallow away the lump that was constricting his throat. Hermione had given it to them in the hope he and Ron would actually study harder.

"Do it today or later you'll pay!" It suddenly screeched. He almost dropped it in shock.

"Do it today or later you'll pay!" The charm work must have partially worn off, he mused as he shook it; hoping to get a reaction. He remembered the thing said other lines as well.

"Do it today or later you'll pay!"

"Fine, I heard you the first time." He commented irritated.

"Do it today or later you'll pay!"

"Do it today or later you'll pay!"

"Do it today or later you'll pay!"

"Stop it!" Harry yelled when he realized the truth in those words. I'm going to be sick, he thought. He felt absolutely nauseous and his hands started sweating profusely. He slammed the book shut and hurried out of the room banging the door as he rushed to the bathroom. Running didn't help though. He could still hear its voice taunting inside his head.

_"Do it today or later you'll pay!"_

If only he had paid more attention in class, if only he had studied harder, if only he had been better, faster, stronger...

* * *

_**September 6, 1998**_

Minerva entered the Black Library, relieved with the sight that greeted her. Harry was seated at the head of one of the long tables. Piles of books towered behind him and on the table almost obscuring him from view. He was scribbling something down at a maniacal pace only pausing to dip the quill in the inkwell.

"Greetings, Mr Potter."

The inkwell tipped over and Harry hurriedly shoved his chair back. He wasn't quick enough though and some ink splattered onto his white shirt.

"Sheesh, Minerva! Don't do that! I thought I was here by myself. I could have hexed you." Harry said, a bit embarrassed by his reaction, and quickly dispelled the ink from the parchment he was working on. He didn't even bother with his shirt.

The elderly witch smiled as she walked around the table, "You might have forgotten but I was your professor once, Harry. And while Transfiguration is my forte, I think I'll manage a shielding charm."

Harry allowed a small smile to appear on his face, but it was gone before she could sit down in the offered seat. He didn't ask what she was doing here, although that might be because her intentions were so obvious. She was checking up on him. Harry's studious silence was uncomfortable as he rummaged through the scrolls and parchments before him.

"What are you doing here? It looks as if you've been living in here for weeks." Minerva asked interested as she scanned the room around her. Harry looked up and sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. He didn't answer though, but Minerva had heard enough, "You have, haven't you?"

"I hadn't realised it was that long, okay?" Harry said defensively all of a sudden and pulled a book onto his lap.

"Kingsley told me he invited you to dinner again. Robards is tagging along this time," said Minerva trying to restart their conversation again when Harry stubbornly turned another page. "You haven't replied to his owl."

When she got no reaction Minerva added, "The Head of the Auror Office? He'll jump at the opportunity to tell you all about Auror training."

"Harry, it isn't healthy to be coped up inside for such a long time. When was the last time you went out?" She asked truly worried.

"Check the Prophet, Minerva. I got mobbed that day."

Minerva winced at the reminder. That had been regrettable to put it lightly. The crowd had tripled every few seconds and when a light flash went off Harry had panicked, blasting the unfortunate photographer into Madam Malkin's shop. She read it all in a special evening edition of the Daily Prophet of course which dealt with everything ranging from Harry's mental state to his marital status. Both she and Kingsley had wanted to check up on him, but the Floo had been closed off again.

"That was more than two weeks ago."

"Yeah and the bruises have finally faded." Harry argued a tad dramatically and sighed, "I thought they liked me enough now not to try to tear me to shreds."

"You can take legal action against them. You're an adult now." She advised.

"I don't want the attention, Minerva. I'll just weather this until the masses find someone else to drool over." Harry stated matter-of-factly and turned his focus back on the books spread out in front of him.

"What are you doing, Harry?" Minerva asked again and took the offered parchments she got as a reply.

She scanned them, her eyebrows rising higher the further she got. It consisted of every spell taught in Hogwarts in the Defence against the Dark Arts class. Some spells were crossed out and new ones, probably better ones, were added. It discussed various wand movements and their ups and downsides were listed next to each other. There was even a reference list. It was very thorough but when she commented on it Harry just shrugged as if he hadn't done anything remarkable, "I'm just listing up things that I might have missed."

"When Hogwarts starts up next year, you might want to consider teaching Defence. I remember it was under your diligent tutelage that your fellow students scored so high on their O.W.L. s. You would be welcomed back with open arms." Minerva added that last part when she saw his blank face.

"Maybe." Harry replied with a shrug and accepted the list back without looking up. Minerva suppressed a sigh. She had this sudden foreboding feeling that Harry would never accept her sincere offer.

"You might consider visiting Andromeda and Teddy for a few days. She did give you an open invitation." She suggested next in the hope to coax him out of this self-imposed solitude. Although, Minerva reflected mournfully, it wasn't entirely self-imposed, now was it?

Harry mumbled something under his breath. "What was that, Harry?"

"I said I don't think I should be around children now. Wouldn't want to infect them with my freakiness."

"Oh, Harry-"

"Just kidding, Minerva." He said with a forced smiled. It wasn't even remotely humorous after all.

* * *

**_December 14, 1998_**

"Kingsley, has Harry returned any of your letters lately?" Minerva asked after she led him into her office. She and Kingsley had sent several owls since the beginning of the month, inviting Harry to spend some time away from Grimmauld Place; preferably Hogwarts, where there was always someone close by. The castle itself was almost completely repaired although the grounds still required a lot of work.

The wizard sagged down on the offered chair and shook his head, "I know he's receiving them because the owls return hooting indignantly."

"Well then it's time for drastic measures." The elderly witch said resolutely and got up fully intending to go to the fireplace. Harry's latest request for privacy be damned.

"Minerva, he's closed his Floo off again." Kingsley's words made her freeze midway.

"Oh dear." Minerva almost stumbled back into her chair and placed her hand across her heart to stop the palpitations. Kingsley was beside her in an instant and thrust a Calming Draught in her other hand, "Slow sips, Minerva, you know what the Healer said."

"I'm having the goblins monitor his vaults. They're still active." He reassured her after she downed the liquid.

"Thank Merlin for small mercies." Minerva said, relieved, but then continued with a trembling whisper. "We're losing him, aren't we?"

* * *

**_January 8, 1999_**

"Gently add one drop of hellebore syrup and stir for five minutes in a clockwise direction." Harry read the instructions out loud. He bit his lip in concentration as he waited for the hourglass to run dry. He then added three sprigs of lavender and waited for the purple swirls to sink to the bottom. Another counter clockwise stir and five sprigs of valerian later he was done.

"One batch of Dreamless Potion coming up, ladies and gentlemen. Any other orders from amongst the audience?" Harry asked the dummies across the room, "I'm taking requests now." Their blank faces just stared back.

"How about I try my hand again at some Felix Felicis? What? No enthusiasts?"

"Pity." He said and quickly cleaned his worktable, "But you're right. That was a disaster. The Ashwinder didn't like me very much, must be because I don't understand what it's saying anymore. Huh, being a Horcrux actually had its perks." Harry paused; a bit surprised with this sudden revelation, before he prattled on, absentmindedly scratching his scar. "Luckily I had a bezoar close by. Where do you find it, Potter? Not in the stomach of a goat! It was on that shelf over there."

He hummed as he bottled fifteen vials and safely secured them in the reinforced cabinets he installed in this room. In October he had learned that lesson the hard way when he accidentally set fire to one of his earliest attempts. The smoke had kept him asleep for two days and had given his skin a purple tinge.

"You really aren't getting smarter are you?" Harry remarked as he stored the last of the ingredients away.

"Now that I'm done with potions today it's time for something else. You know what that means of course. Duelling!" Harry stepped from behind his desk and made a theatrical bow.

"You're all stiffs, aren't you?" He commented as he neared the centre of the room. A swish of his wand and the dummies were standing in a circle around him.

"I hate to smash you to bits, but I have to get better. If I had been..." Harry's enthusiastic voice faltered. He stared at some faraway spot on the wall. A minute later he shook his head to dispel the memories. He straightened his back and said, "Show me your best moves and curses, people. I stocked up on plenty of burn paste yesterday."

Harry readied himself as the dummies started moving faster and faster along the wide circle. Any second now one of them would fire the first curse. He bent his knees slightly and gripped his wand a little tighter.

* * *

**_May 1, 1999_**

Harry took a sip of his tea and gently smoothed the crumpled letter until the words were legible again. He sighed deeply as he leaned against the stove. He had ignored all incoming mail for the past few months but this one had survived his spell practise.

It was an invitation to the Memorial Service held at Hogwarts. A year had passed already and time had flown by too fast and too slow. Harry ran his hand through his hair. It been months since he had a proper haircut. He sniffed his arm. Or had a shower.

Suddenly he panicked. What was he thinking? He couldn't go there! Tremors wracked his body as he sunk down against the kitchen cabinet. He closed his eyes and forcefully covered them with his hands. Spells were being fired into the inky blackness. Screams and explosions made him cower further.

After a while he calmed down enough to realize where he was. Blindly, he reached above his head with one hand until his fingers touched a familiar bottle standing within reach on the counter. He didn't even bother with a glass and the strong alcohol took care of the rest of the tremors.

* * *

**_May 2, 1999_**

"Harry?" Minerva was shocked when she greeted the next invitee at the Floo. He had stumbled out and the witch had to grab his shoulder so he wouldn't fall down. Her lips thinned when she clearly felt the bones of his arms below his black robes. He looked as though he hadn't eaten anything in days or slept.

"I'm sorry." The young wizard mumbled and didn't dare to look up at her.

"Are you drunk?" She asked feeling much too relieved at seeing him in person to sound disapproving.

Harry only shrugged and repeated, "I'm so sorry."

"It's all right, Harry." Minerva patted his arm and looked around the hallway. The next guest would just have to find their own way down the hall. She offered him her arm but Harry scoffed at the gesture.

"I'm fine." He said and Minerva felt some traitorous tears prickle. For one moment he had sounded just like the old Harry; the wilful and headstrong Gryffindor. She tried again, "Surely, you don't mind helping an old lady to her seat?"

Deep down he was still the same, Minerva thought with a wistful smile as Harry gently took her arm and both of them walked onto the lawn as it sloped down to the Black Lake. The Ministry had placed hundreds of chairs in front of a dais and white flowers lined the path. Neither commented on the fact that she was guiding Harry instead of the other way around.

* * *

**_May 3, 1999_**

Harry groaned as he slowly regained consciousness. He was lying in his bed in Grimmauld Place, if the smell was anything to go by, but with no memory of how he got there. Kingsley must have dropped him off after the Memorial yesterday. The memories were a bit blurry after midday once he had time to drink some of his hidden stash. He should probably feel somewhat guilty about showing up drunk and then drinking even more, but at least he had showed. He had even showered for the occasion.

Anyway, being drunk was nothing in comparison with actually being the reason the list of the deceased was so long. So it was no surprise that most of those present shot him disapproving looks or even glared.

_Still, who does that?_ Harry turned onto his back and stared at the ceiling. Yesterday was about honouring those who died so the rest of the Wizarding World could live in peace. And he wrecked that. Harry felt like crying, once again wishing it had been him and not them.

Suddenly he became aware of another presence in his bedroom. He cursed. The Floo, he forgot to lock the Floo again. It wasn't a person though. It was an owl and Harry freely admitted to himself that it was the scariest barn owl he had ever encountered. The bird had perched itself on the edge of his bed and was staring at him with its pitch black eyes. Harry could've sworn it was sneering disapprovingly at him. With a sigh and a lot of effort he unravelled himself from underneath the covers and got up.

He ignored the owl and its letter for now, but felt the bird's piercing gaze on his back as he walked out of his bedroom and down towards the kitchen. If he was going to read the letter he needed some tea first and a drink later.

As his stalker owl flew after him and landed on top of one of the kitchen's chairs, Harry sagged down on the chair next to it and summoned some old tea. A wave later and it was scalding hot again. He blew the steam away and carefully untied the letter. Without warning, the owl pecked his arm and flew away, going Merlin knows where.

Good riddance, he thought as he absentmindedly brought the small wound to his mouth to suck it clean and unfolded the parchment. There were two pieces of them. One was a letter and the second one was a recipe of some sort. He quietly scanned the letter first sipping his tea. A few moments later he spat the mouthful of tea back out, and not just because of the stale taste.

_Potter,_

_One year passed since the Dark Lord's demise. No doubt you're basking in your glory and reminiscing with your fans about your heroic feats. If not, well you should have tried harder._

_I lost what I loved most on the day that you lived. I cursed your existence but the part of you that was Lily needed my protection. It was the only reason why I never ended my own pathetic existence. My role wasn't over._

_Yours is though. Nobody is waiting for a fallen hero. It would have been better if you died along with the Dark Lord then everybody could close that chapter. You're nothing more than a reminder of a hell that's passed._

_I enclosed my preferred poison but I doubt a dunderhead like you is capable of brewing it, even following my instructions. Albus spoke of death as the next great adventure. I'm positive a self-brewed poison won't be your passageway. You can always ostentatiously fall off your broom. Truly tragic, can you imagine the newspaper articles? Or the accompanying photographs? The poison at least leaves nothing behind. Then again you would want a shrine for your adoring public._

_S. Snape_

_P.S.: If you get this then I'm dead and you by some misfortune are not. Deal with it._

Harry jumped up, not caring that his chair tipped over with a loud crash. As he strode to his workbench Snape's harsh words were stabbing his heart over and over again. He couldn't fathom why he'd ever spoken a word in the man's defence.

* * *

_**May 7, 1999**_

Harry swiped the sweat of his brow. Finally it was done. The ingredients were not easy to find but using his name had paid off for once. It was the most complicated potion he'd ever made or heard of. If he had attempted this last year it would have probably blown up before he even gotten to the really tricky parts. But now, not even one cauldron had melted.

He grinned; vaguely realizing that he must look like some crazy scientist straight out of a Muggle horror novel. He hadn't slept the previous night and not much on the nights before, as the brew needed almost constant supervision. Frankly, he hadn't even noticed he hadn't eaten in a day as well, blaming the potion fumes for his frequent dizzy spells.

But it didn't matter, nothing mattered anymore and he had been delusional telling himself otherwise for all those months. Always pedalling back when it came to the point of no return. But no more.

Now, now it was done. He corked the vial. He'd put a stopper in death.

_Take that you miserable bastard_, Harry thought as he viewed his final accomplishment. It was an average sized vial but every single drop of the poison fitted in there. It was a thick viscous fluid with a pearly black shine to it. He carefully took the vial as he ascended the stairs towards the living room.

He knew Minerva and Kingsley had been sending owls again. The birds still landed nearby and he could see them from out his windows, but they couldn't enter anymore. He did feel a bit guilty, but it was not as if they would have time to mourn him for long. Minerva had her Hogwarts students to look out for when the school reopened in September and Kingsley was busy pushing the Ministry into the 21st century.

He was standing in front of the mantelpiece now and placed one of his favourite pictures there. It showed Ron, Hermione and himself just hanging around by the lake. Ginny had wrested the camera from Colin that day and had taken the picture herself. Harry smiled. They looked so happy there. He traced his friends' faces as they once again attacked him from all sides, tickling and laughing on the grass. Harry closed his eyes for a second. He'd been happy then. But like the picture that feeling was just a snapshot in time.

He stepped to the centre of the room where he carefully uncorked the potion. Harry took a deep breath; gathering that last bit of courage he had left somewhere. In one fluid move he tipped the vial back and felt how the cold liquid slowly travelled down his throat. Nothing happened, however.

Suddenly his lungs constricted. He fell onto his knees, bending over and gasping for air as his instincts kicked in.

Trust Snape not to choose a painless poison, Harry thought as he screamed. It felt as if his insides where exploding from within, cooking in icy fire. His skin had turned black, but Harry was sure he was hallucinating as one by one his fingers were enveloped in thick black fluid. He wheezed; finally running out of air.

And everything mercifully faded away.

...

"The goblins sent me a message." Kingsley didn't waste time with pleasantries as he strode into the Headmistress' office, "Harry's vaults closed off earlier this morning. I managed to keep it silent for now, but by tomorrow the rumours will start."

Minerva looked up from her paperwork, "Of course they will. But it doesn't matter, it's done now." She called a House Elf for tea, but Kingsley asked for something stronger.

"It was a rather cruel letter. He seriously wrote that?" Kingsley remarked after downing his drink. He shot a quick glance at the latest Headmaster's portrait but the occupant wasn't there.

Minerva followed his gaze with a fond look on her face, "Nobody knew how to push Harry's buttons like Severus."

"I'm still not comfortable with this."

"Neither am I, Kingsley," said Minerva tiredly. "Harry was already contemplating this course of action for a long time, probably since the day he woke up in the hospital. You saw him at the Memorial. And he would have refused any help in fear of everything being splattered on the front page again. At least we've something left now."

"What?" Kingsley asked sullenly.

"Hope." She said and determinately dipped a biscuit in her tea, "He might not see it that way, but Severus truly did give him one last gift."

* * *

**I hope this was realistic for what Harry is going through. And of course I hope you enjoyed it!**

**narratoroflife: Thank you for your review! I'll try to update as soon as possible but I don't make promises because I suck at keeping them...**

**s3adolphin: Indeed, that's the other universe. Well, I needed someone to die along with Harry and Sirius fit the profile. There are other reasons of course, but you'll see **** Thanks for reviewing!**

**Kokylinda: Wow, thank you for your review! You sure have high expectations, I'll try not to disappoint. **


	3. A Localised Anomaly

**Thank you all so much for your awesome feedback! I'm honestly overwhelmed, it's brilliant :) **** Review responses are at the bottom. This chapter was beta'ed by the wonderful ****_Madame Cyanure_****; all remaining mistakes are mine of course. **

**A shorter chapter this time, but with lots of information, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own HP.**

* * *

**Chapter 2: A Localised Anomaly**

_**May 6, 1999**_

Headquarters was surprisingly peaceful at the moment. There had been no Death Eater attacks in the last two days, allowing the Aurors to catch up with paperwork. James Potter glanced to his right at the clock in his office. It was standing on top of the mantelpiece. Only five dials were still pointing at 'Headquarters'. Below it a low fire was burning in the fireplace; more because he liked the sound of burning wood than out of necessity.

From his seat behind his desk he had a clear view of the individual cubicles through the wide two door's entrance. So it was with some surprise that he had to look up when someone knocked on the open door. It was Tonks.

Huh, her skills at stealth were improving then, James mused, a bit baffled as he put down Bones' latest memo and motioned Tonks to come in. She tripped over the threshold.

"You all right?" James asked with a chuckle when the red-faced Auror stumbled inside. She glared at the offending and almost non-existing obstacle and held up two lilac folders.

"I've brought you mine and Kingsley's assessment rapports." She said and placed them in his outstretched hand. She sat down on one of the two chairs at the other side of the desk, thrumming the leather arm-rest.

"It shouldn't surprise you." She commented, after a full minute had passed and he was still busy rummaging through them.

"It doesn't." James replied absentmindedly as he scanned the files thoroughly. Kingsley and Tonks were not frugal with their praise. He briefly looked up when he noticed Tonks hadn't left his office. That determined look on her face meant trouble and he knew exactly what she was up to.

"They're brilliant in the field, boss," said Tonks positively glowing. "I never met anyone who's that good after not even a year of training. Neither has Kingsley."

"Then imagine what another half year would do." James said offhandedly and closed the rapports with a definitive gesture.

"They already have tons of experience from before the training." She tried once more.

"Unfortunately." He merely said in reply.

"Boss, you can't shelter-"

"No Tonks," interjected James. "You know I have the final say. They'll just have to be patient." He stated firmly.

"They're cursing you, you know." Tonks informed him with a trace of amusement, "They're so bored. I think they've mapped out the whole Ministry."

"Probably. That might come in handy one day. They might reconsider their careers and become tour guides."

"That's not nice, boss." She said with a wide smile.

"I'm not a nice man, Tonks." James grinned back.

She snorted, "Yeah right, you forget I was taught Potions by Professor Snape."

"Point taken, speaking of Slytherins, what did they give you in return for pleading their case?" James leaned forwards, very much interested in what those two were up to.

"Ron has given me some of his brothers' latest tricks. Draco promised me to take over my next night shift."

"You do know he could only do that when your intervention here had a positive outcome?"

"Of course I do. That's why I only make deals with both of them. Only one of the two is a Slytherin after all. Ron actually handed the pranks to me before I agreed to talk to you." Tonks shook her head at the boy's apparent idiocy and got back up. She glanced for a moment at the clock and frowned.

"Are you doing another graveyard shift?" She asked and crossed her arms; probably trying to channel Professor McGonagall if her disapproving stare was anything to go by. Her current fuchsia hair colour diminished the overall effect, he concluded with a smirk. James leaned back in his chair unconcerned and pointed his thumb at his chest, "Tonks, one Head Auror sitting right here."

"Don't be ridiculous, Potter. Shouldn't Robards or Williamson be doing this one?" She sounded genuinely annoyed. Women, James groaned inwardly; they either try to mother him or date him. While he was grateful it wasn't the latter, Tonks could get pretty adamant sometimes.

"I insisted," said James, "Unlike me they have people waiting for them at home."

"Shall I stay as well then?" She asked flippantly, "I've tossed out my latest boyfriend. I only have to feed the cat."

"You know perfectly well what I meant. Besides you've been here since six o'clock this morning. That's nearly sixteen hours." James gave her a stern look which softened in the end, "Go home, get some rest and feed your poor cat before it becomes wiser and takes off. That's an order, Tonks."

Tonks snorted again, "All right then, boss, but promise me you'll Floo when you need help."

"That's sort of the point of manning the graveyard shift." James remarked dryly.

"Fine, see you tomorrow, sir." She waved her goodbye.

"Goodnight, Tonks." James waved by already distracted once more by the assessment rapports. He had no intention of allowing Draco and Ron to become full-fledged Aurors already, despite or maybe because of their experiences. Paradoxically, Auror _training_ was probably the safest place for them, discounting Hogwarts of course. He knew there were other reasons for his reluctance, reasons he had no intention of analysing yet, or ever, but he wouldn't be able to ever face Arthur or Malfoy Senior again if something happened to their sons.

He took off his round wire rimmed glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn't know what he disliked more though; Death Eater raids every night or this traitorous calmness, a clear sign that Voldemort and his minions were preoccupied with something else.

* * *

_**May 7, 1999**_

It was four o'clock in the morning when James unbuttoned his outer robe after Flooing back to Auror Headquarters. The only incident so far had been a false alarm. The Fawcetts had heard strange howling sounds close to where they lived. He had opted to go alone instead of taking Dawlish with him. That way someone was at the office and he didn't have to call in backup for what might have been nothing.

His gut feeling had been correct. It had been nothing.

James sighed. He had a stern talk with Xenophilius about trying to lure one of his fantastical creatures in the dead of night when the Wizarding World was at war and on high alert, only half listening to the man's ramblings about astronomical charts and right alignment of certain stars and planets. In the end a most disappointed Lovegood had promised to warn the Fawcetts in the future.

He was about to enter his office when he caught sight of John Dawlish. He immediately pushed his anger back down; it would serve nothing after all, and walked up to the sleeping man.

"Dawlish, I expect you in my office in two minutes." James said loudly. At least the man had fast reflexes because John immediately went for his wand. He looked around, a bit disorientated, and then seemed to remember his predicament because he visibly paled. Dawlish was about to stammer out an apology, but James had already turned around and walked to his office, "One and a half minutes." He called back across his shoulder.

He needed a cup of tea.

...

"Sit." James ordered when Dawlish hurried into his office a half minute early. He waited for the man to sink down in a chair while stirring some sugar in his tea. He looked, truly looked, at the Auror sitting across him and sighed, folding his hands in front of him on the desk.

"I'm sending you home, John."

"Sir, I'm sorry. It won't happen again." Dawlish pleaded.

"It's the third time this has happened in less than two months." James said and gestured at the man's appearance, "It's clearly influencing your work."

"I'm sorry I didn't notice it earlier." James added at the man's despondent look. Dawlish knew better than to protest. The Head Auror opened his right drawer and took out a calling card.

"Whatever is going on," started James, quickly continuing when John opened his mouth to argue. "It's none of my business. But I want you to go see Miss Raswick before the end of the week." He handed Dawlish the card.

"It's not a suspension, John, not yet. But it will be if you don't talk to her. I need to know if I can rely on you. If she gives the okay, then you merely spend the week on vacation, do you understand?"

Dawlish gripped the card as if it was his lifeline. It might very well be. The man looked horribly neglected and weary. He looked up and said sincerely, "Thank you, sir."

"Don't mention it, now go before I change my mind and curse you for using your files as a pillow." James pointed at the door and added, "You had better not drooled on them, Dawlish."

"Wouldn't dare, sir." John said with a small smile and left.

...

There was no way of telling how much time had passed or even if time existed a second ago. All Harry knew was that he'd woken up because it was so very cold.

He opened his eyes and saw nothing else but mist and the vague outlines of well, it smelled like grass even if it did feel and look a bit burned. He was lying on his side and saw dewdrops littered across his arm. There was a light growing in the distant mist, slowly and steadily making his surroundings even more ethereal and strange. A bird burst into song nearby and something hopped past a few yards from him. Harry scuttled back. Then he noticed he was naked.

Harry groaned; not again!

He carefully got up until he was half sitting, half leaning on his knees. At bit frustrated at the lack of clear vision he tried to find his glasses or his wand, but the ground around him was empty. And unlike last time no robe appeared nor did Dumbledore walk towards him. He was utterly alone, naked and judging by the feel, sounds and smells of the place he'd ended up in an actual field.

Harry shivered and rubbed his chest, trying to warm himself. His fingers felt numb however and so prickly that it hurt. The light was steadily growing and he rolled his eyes at himself when it hit him. It was the sun. Brilliant, he thought sarcastically and gritted his teeth to stop them from chattering.

He squinted. A bit further he could distinguish a darker shape. It was rectangular and long, probably stretching out along the horizon. Deciding that was most likely a wall or a road, Harry carefully got up and began his cumbersome trek to what hopefully would lead him to an inhabited area. First he had to find out where he was. And then he would find out what the bloody hell went wrong with the poison.

Merlin, he felt as weak as a new-born baby, Harry thought as he staggered on the slippery grass beneath his feet.

...

After Dawlish went home, James wandered back into the common area of the Office and went to sit in Savage's chair. He had the best view of the Pit from there, the wall sized notice board where all the alerts, among other things, appeared on. It was the nerve centre of the Auror Headquarters and it was blessedly empty of anything important for the moment. It carried that name for as long as anyone here could remember. Merlin knows why it was ever coined that way. James found it particularly fitting however. It was indeed a bottomless pit since an Auror's job would never be over.

James leaned back on the chair and put his feet on the edge of the desk. He ran his hand through his hair, making it stick up and stared up at the unimaginative ceiling. This used to be his desk once. James' smile was filled with nostalgia.

That was a long time ago, almost a different lifetime ago. At that time he often cursed joining the Aurors or better yet, letting Scrimgeour manhandle him into the uniform. But while he still cursed Scrimgeour's existence from time to time – and frankly, everyone did – he no longer regretted becoming an Auror. It kept him busy during the days and nights.

Suddenly there was that dreaded flapping noise followed by a shrill tone when one of the Ministry's in-house notes plastered itself on the Pit. James righted himself and looked at the piece of parchment. He groaned at seeing its colour, midnight blue indicating the Department of Mysteries, and cursed loudly.

Ever since the war was back in full swing those wankers from down below kept sending odd jobs upstairs as if the Aurors didn't have enough on their plate. He had no idea why this was suddenly the case as their liaison to that Department went missing in the late sixties. The Unspeakables either had far more important things on their minds or found it hilarious to send the Aurors on the occasional wild goose chase. James was certain it was the latter. Everyone needed a laugh these days.

The note compromised of four short lines. _Magical outburst level XX, localised anomaly_, James read the first line and suppressed the impulse to bash his head against the board. Could they be any vaguer, he thought with frustration.

The rest was utter gibberish of course as he hadn't taken Ancient Runes at Hogwarts. The last line was a set of numbers, which probably were the Apparition coordinates. Or it could be the place of the anomaly and James knew better than to Apparate in the very centre of something which caught the Unspeakables' attention.

The last few times it was nothing, as in there was literally nothing to find: a perfect normal anomaly. Only Kingsley and Tonks actually stumbled onto something a couple of months back but they couldn't remember what it was in the end. Another reason why he disliked the Unspeakables. Obliviating his Aurors was simply not the done thing.

James decrypted the coordinates and made a quick calculation. He sighed; it was smack in the middle of Gloucestershire. It was probably just some ticklish ley line.

He folded the note, placing it inside his robe as he sat back down. He was not going to call in reinforcements just because the Department of Mysteries was filled with idiots. James glanced at his pocket watch. It was just passed five o'clock. The anomaly could wait another hour.

...

Harry was too busy trying not to stumble to appreciate the scenery. Fields, trees, soft glowing hills and shaded valleys stretched out in every direction. The dark blurry shape had been a wall and behind that Harry had found a road. It was nothing more than a gravel path though and he tried to walk on the thin patch of grass alongside it as much as he could to spare his feet.

He continuously fought the urge to punch the stone wall; it wouldn't serve any purpose but to add to his discomfort. Brilliant; this was just what he needed, Harry thought wryly. There was no way he would get back to Grimmauld Place unnoticed. The Daily Prophet will be having a field day, especially since not even a week had passed since the Memorial Service and the masses were screaming for some dirt.

He couldn't recall if he ever felt this vulnerable before. He had no idea where he was, he was alone and he had no wand, no glasses and no clothes. It seemed as if he'd been walking for hours but it couldn't be that long. Suddenly the wall ended and turned into a white picket fence.

"The early bird catches the worm."

Harry staggered back at the sound of a voice and used his hands to cover himself up. A few metres further on a lawn chair an elderly lady was enjoying the morning sun.

"I used to be a nurse, young lad. I've seen it all before." The old woman said and got up. She walked closer to the fence with the help of her cane and asked curiously, "Why are you walking around naked? Is that the newest fashion on the Continent?"

She didn't seem even remotely perturbed that he was practically standing naked in her garden and waited patiently for him to answer.

"I don't think so," said Harry honestly and helplessly looked up and down the road. "I'm lost."

"And cold too by the looks of it. The entrance is just a bit further along the path. I'll get you a blanket first and some clothes later." The old woman said decisively and Harry was suddenly reminded of Neville's grandmother. Here too was an elderly lady who wouldn't take no for an answer. Harry nodded gratefully and walked along the fence. His feet were really paining him now and the elderly woman was moving even faster than him. She was already at the gate waiting with a set of blankets.

"Thank you so much, Mrs?"

"Holloway. Everyone here calls me Old Mrs Holloway as if there's another younger one nearby..." The old lady prattled on as she led him further into the garden towards the house. There were stone steps every few feet and Harry needed his full concentration to carry on.

"Now stop and look around." The old lady suddenly ordered and Harry tried to see what she was pointing to. He narrowed his eyes again.

"Lost your glasses as well?" She asked with a saddened shake of her head. But before Harry could answer a high-pitched scream surprised him. He turned around quickly to find the source of the scream; alert for any form of danger. The motion was too brusque however, as the blanket became entangled with his ankles and Harry tipped back flailing his arms.

...

After leaving the Office in the capable hands of Robards and Moody, James Apparated just south of the coordinates, hoping his shoes would stay dry this time. Once he stopped moving the sight that greeted him could only be described as picturesque.

James hopped onto the stone wall. It was the highest spot in the vicinity as he didn't want to climb a tree. On his right were nothing but fields and trees. It was positively boring. He turned around fully expecting to see the same.

Huh, that's not normal, James thought; he jumped off the wall and carefully approached the burned patch of grass in the middle of the field. He paused at the edge of this perfect circle. Magic was still tingling in the air and he vaguely detected the smell of metallic smoke. He made some encompassing movements with his wand trying to detect anything maleficent. There was nothing there. The grass was not burned off, instead it was charcoaled. He kneeled down and rubbed a blade of grass in between his fingers. It still felt like normal grass though.

It was a perfectly normal circle of not burned but blackened grass in the middle of Gloucestershire. James sighed; he should get back to the Office and report this. But if he was going to get Obliviated he might as well investigate it further to satisfy his own curiosity.

It took another minute to find what he had missed. And another to follow the faint footprints back towards the wall. The gravel path gently descended downhill as far as he could see. James quickly transfigured his robes into Muggle clothes before following the trail unhurriedly.

Even after a half an hour's walk there was not a Muggle in sight. James was so focused on the road ahead that he didn't realize he was being watched. He almost jumped when someone spoke up.

"They took him to the General Hospital."

James softly cursed mentally slapping himself on the back of the head. Little old ladies shouldn't have been able to catch him by surprise but here was one specimen who had managed to do just that. She smiled kindly at him, her wrinkled eyes crinkling even more.

"Excuse me?" He felt a bit overwhelmed.

"You're looking for the boy, right? The naked one?" She added as if it was self-explanatory.

"Um, yes?" said James hesitantly not knowing what else to say and hoped the elderly lady would tell him more without much coaxing.

...

A five mile jog later, James pushed open the hospital door. He couldn't really Apparate safely here and the walk had given him some time to think. It had been a boy in that field, a cold and lost boy according to the perfectly pleasant and talkative Mrs Holloway. The how and why would most likely have to wait, but with some luck he'll find out the who before midday. He'd been debating whether or not going on his own had been a sound idea before stumbling on this piece of information.

According to protocol he should have alerted the Unspeakables already, gotten himself Obliviated and slept the day away. But he always had some difficulty with following certain rules. The Department of Mysteries was filled with wizards and witches who were all about experiments and no emotion. And he was not about to place a child under their scrutiny.

James made himself know at the front desk, used a dazzling smile and a tiny Confundus Charm on the already ditzy secretary and got pointed in the right direction.

"Doctor Donaldson?" He called loudly when the physician was about to turn around a corner. The doctor stopped and waited patiently for James to join him. He was a grandfatherly-like man, probably perfectly content on spending his last active years of his profession in this small quaint hospital.

"I'm DI James Evans." The wizard said as a greeting using one of his numerous aliases while showing the accompanied identification, "The front desk called concerning a suspicious incident this morning."

"Really? Already?" The doctor sounded delighted at the news, "Maggie's usually too busy with painting her nails this time of day."

James opened his notepad, readjusted his glasses and read, "A boy appeared on the road, naked and lost. Mrs Holloway offered him a blanket but when she led him to the house her visiting daughter screamed in surprise. The boy tripped and knocked himself out on the terraced path where she was trying to show him the view from her garden."

"You spoke to Old Mrs Holloway already?"

"It was on my way here."

"Odd," remarked the older man. But if he found something strange about James' explanation, the good doctor didn't comment on it further. "However he's far from a boy. I'm only middle-aged in her eyes, you see. I believe he's in his late teens, early twenties."

"The incident itself is fairly straightforward," explained Doctor Donaldson further and motioned James to follow him down the hallway. "The cut in his head needed a couple of stitches and there will be some bruising, but that will mend quickly in time. I sent for the police because of the way he was found."

"Naked, am I correct?"

"Exactly and he's also malnourished, dehydrated and ruined his feet on his morning hike."

"Can I see him?"

"Here we are." The doctor whispered and stopped at one room. He opened the door soundlessly. The room was darkened and cool. James saw a faint outline of dark hair peaking above the white sheets, "He's sleeping now. The nurse will wake him up in an hour or so to check for signs of concussion as a precaution."

The doctor was suddenly distracted by a beeping sound at his waist and hurried back into the hallway, "You don't need me right now? I've got to go to the emergency room."

"No," said James but then changed his mind, "Did he happen to say his name?"

"Ah yes, I forgot." The older man reprimanded himself, "He said his name was Harry Potter."

It was fortunate that the doctor made a hasty retreat. As soon as James closed the door behind him, his legs turned into jelly and he slipped onto the floor.

...

James slammed his front door shut in frustration and quickly crossed the narrow hallway to reach the kitchen. A half minute later he had downed his first glass of Ogden's already and filled another. Leaving the bottle in the kitchen he slowly walked up the stairs and sagged down on his favourite old chair.

He felt like a sleepwalker; he'd arrived somewhere without knowing how he'd gotten there. The floor could disappear right now and he wouldn't be as shocked as he'd been in the hospital.

As soon as he got his legs and heart cooperating again, James told himself it was just a coincidence. Harry was a common name after all and so was Potter. It was an unfortunate coincidence, a punishment for not getting back to Headquarters when protocol demanded it. But then he had gotten up and forced himself to take a look at the sleeping young man if only to reassure him of the utter cruelness of the universe.

He looked as bad as the doctor described him: hollowed cheeks and a greyish complexion. There was a bag filled with some sort of fluid hanging close by, an IV, James remembered as he watched the attached tube disappear below the covers. A bandage was wrapped up around the young man's head; covering his forehead and making black bangs stick up in every direction. It was longer than James' hair but even the length couldn't conceal what was right before his eyes: an absolute anomaly.

James had practically fled the hospital after that.

He took out his wand and lit the fire, the sound soothing his frazzled nerves. James brought the glass to his lips but didn't take a sip. _It couldn't be, now could it?_

The young man looked familiar, as familiar as it could get by watching your own reflection but backwards. You know it's you, but something is off. James knew the young man wasn't his Harry, couldn't be his Harry, but he also knew something was off. The fact that there was a patch of burned grass and a concentrated magical residue which caught the Unspeakables' attention near where the young man was found wandering naked quite clearly put this case in the off-zone of things.

James swirled the glass and downed the liquor. Sitting here like an indecisive schoolgirl wouldn't solve anything. He'd approach this objectively without alerting anyone. He might even be losing his mind and this was the first sign of a pending nervous breakdown. If it was then he would like it to happen as unobtrusively as possible. _If it was something else, if..._ He dared not to think further along those lines.

He got up and decisively made his way to the nearby desk to pen a short report for the Department of Mysteries.

_No anomaly found on the aforementioned coordinates, thanks a lot for making me trudge around the countryside._

He signed with his name and reread the short note. Sarcasm was very hard to pull off on paper but, James thought, he'd managed pretty well.

Now it was just a matter of making his lie reflect the truth and simply transfigure the blackened grass back to its normal condition, Obliviate the Muggles and kidnap a possibly concussed patient from a hospital.

Thank Merlin, it was Friday already.

* * *

**And a different dimension it is, ladies and gentlemen! I hope James wasn't too out of character. Not that we really know much about his character but still... More about his history and background in the next chapters as well as more about this whole parallel universe. Next update won't be in a week like the previous ones, I'm still writing so...  
**

**DoctorKnight:** Thank you so much for your feedback on the description, that made me very happy

**Moi:** Oh, he'll benefit from that habit, but he's not going to be all powerful all of a sudden. I imagine Minerva getting more worried with every passing day and Snape's portrait reluctantly offering a "solution" making sure Harry does exactly what is expected. Thank you for your review!

**s3adolphin:** I hope James was somewhat realistic in his reactions, thank you for your review!

**narratoroflife:** Thank you for reviewing! The effects of Snape's poison are quite clear or did Harry make a mistake?

**Ann:** Yes, sorry to tell you but Ginny's dead in Harry's world along with almost everyone else… Thank you for your review and hopefully the next chapters will be enjoyable as well.

**The elusive shadow:** Wow, let me start by stating I've never gotten such a long and thorough review before, thank you! I loved the fact that you listed what you liked. About Voldemort, I hate it when he becomes some sort of caricature of himself. So if I fall into that trap in later chapters, please let me know. When I write him I remind myself of the fact that Tom Riddle was the most brilliant – and manipulating student – of Hogwarts in the last decades. Being dramatic is good and all, but it has to serve a purpose. The times when he speaks softly in the films is when he creeps me out the most . About Minerva and Kingsley, I'm so glad you found them and their actions realistic. So thank you again for reviewing and all the positive feedback!

**Kokylinda:** Thank you! Most chapter won't be that long as you can see, but I try to 'fill' them up. I'm aiming for something realistic so I'm thrilled you thought it was so.

**Sheankelor:** I can only try, thank you for your review! About Minerva and Kingsley, they'll move on. I think they've been saying goodbye for a long time.

**potimarron:** You're welcome

**history:** He did, glad you commented on that.

**Nee339:** I can honestly say that that never crossed my mind. You're right that would be one horrible, creepy way of getting to another world, but I'm trying not to traumatize Harry even further... It would be a brilliant idea, though...

**arynwy:** You catch on quickly! Minerva, Kingsley and portrait Snape were partners in crime in this endeavour. You'll see Snape soon... Thank you for reviewing!

**Me4Ever999:** Really? Thank you for reviewing!


End file.
